


Life After You

by Bananase221



Category: Bates Motel, Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Drunk Driving, F/M, Fights, Hospitals, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecurity, My First Fanfic, Please Don't Hate Me, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:53:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananase221/pseuds/Bananase221
Summary: Sort of songfic based off Chris Daughtry's "Life After You" in which Dylan Massett and Jezalie DuMont meet, fall in love, then fall apart when their mutual friend Emma dies.





	Life After You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so I really hope you guys will enjoy it! Tags are confusing, so I'll try my best to get better at them! (I also hope the formatting works out, sorry if it's bad! - I tried but computers confuse me when I'm running on few hours of sleep!)

Songfic: Life After You by Daughtry

 _Ten miles from town_  
And I just broke down  
Spitting out smoke on the side of the road  
I'm out here alone  
Just trying to get home  
To tell you I was wrong, but you already know  
Believe me, I won't stop at nothing to see you  
So I've started running

 

Jezalie POV

 

            “It’s ALL OUR FAULT! She’s _DEAD_ because of _US_!”

____

            I wince as I take another burning swig from a bottle of some sort of alcohol, anything to drown out his words.

____

            “I bet you’re glad she’s dead!”

____

            I swallow a sob as I take a long draw from the cigarette dangling from my shaking fingers. I haven’t smoked since long before I met him. I had started after mom almost died when I was seventeen and promptly began the quitting process at eighteen, no longer enjoying the once soothing drag of thick grey smoke and watching as the swirling wisps dissipated with my problems a single breath at a time. She wouldn’t have been proud of me; wouldn’t be proud now either.

            I gag against the intrusion in my lungs and sigh again, watching the tiny red glow at the tip flash brighter with the pressure of my breath as I blow gently and uninterestedly observe the ashy mess that scatters as the far end gives, burned to completion. I drop my head back against the wall I sit against and take another swig of alcohol.

____

            “I am the reason she’s dead, and SO ARE YOU! SOME BEST FRIEND YOU WERE!”

            He’d screamed this, backing me into the corner of our tiny, perfect apartment.

            “AND SOME BOYFRIEND YOU WERE!” I’d screamed back.

____

            I press my hand against my throat and swallow, the rawness a reminder that just makes everything more painful. I feel my entire body tense up in a sob and I scream from the top of my lungs, throwing the glass bottle holding liquid comfort against the wall, the shattering sound resounding inside my head like both a beautiful symphony and a tragic screeching of tires as I jerkily yank my knees up into my chest and bury my face in them, wrapping my arms around my legs as I sob, trying to gain some sort of comfort from the ball I’ve turned myself into, rocking and shaking violently.

            “Jezalie? Are you alright sweetheart?” I hear Norma Bates call as gently as I’ve ever heard her as she knocks softly on the motel door.

            “I’m fine Norma. Just peachy.” I throw a beer bottle against the wall, mouth twisting into a wry smirk when I hear the shatter and clench my eyes shut trying to stem my tears while I clench my hands into fists so tight my knuckles turn white in a failed attempt at stopping the endless shaking. 

            I bite my lip so hard I feel a trickle of blood run down my chin as another bout of tears begin to pour from my reddened eyes.

            “Sometimes I just HATE YOU! I wish that I’d never met you!”

            “What are you saying Dylan? I thought you loved me!”

            “I did. Before all this. But not now that she’s dead and its our fault.”

            “What are you saying Dylan…?”

            “WHAT DOES IT SOUND LIKE I’M SAYING?! I’m LEAVING!”

            “Dylan! What-? After everything we’ve been through?”

            “Goodbye Jezalie.”

            Dylan grabs his bag and walks out the door. I watch him, unmoving, with eyes glazing over from my place by the window as he gets into his big black truck, slams the door, and skids out of the parking lot. I finally take a breath and wish I hadn’t as the sobs immediately follow, my knees buckling, causing me to collapse onto the ground as the first flood of tears begins and my body starts to shake for the first time. I realize then that I can’t stay here anymore. Not in our home, and not in this town. With that thought I grab my keys and drive to the only place I can think of. The Bates Motel.

            “Jezalie? Can you let me in? I don’t think you should be alone right now…” Norma calls, voice muffled through the wooden door. Frankly, I’m surprised at how nice she’s being considering she’s disliked me from the moment she met me. After all, Emma was always the one she’d loved like a daughter.

            “Like you care! You don’t care about me Norma! You have NEVER CARED! So just STOP PRETENDING and LEAVE ME ALONE!”

            I reach out blindly for another bottle, fumbling over at least eight empty bottles of varying sizes before reaching an unopened beer can. I quickly crack the lid and take a long swig, feeling the bitterness flood my mouth in a nearly comforting way.

            “I do care Jezalie! Just let me in okay sweetie? Everything will be okay!” Norma tries to sound cheery.

            “You just don’t want to chance a dead body in one of your rooms again. But don’t worry Norma, I don’t plan on dying tonight! Either way, I’ll be out of your hair by morning, so why don’t you just go back upstairs and look after your son?”

            I smile bitterly as I hear her footsteps retreat after a slight pause. “I never did back down from Norma Bates,” I think as I toss back another swig of beer, remembering the numerous fights we’d gotten into over Dylan, Norman, Emma, everything.

            “Jezalie? Mother seems to be very worried about you, and I admit I’m rather worried about you myself… Is there anything I can do…?” Norman’s voice floats delicately through the door and I smile gently. I was so happy when Norman finally accepted me and allowed me to become an important person in his life.

            “Thank you, Norman, but no. I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Not this time. This thing is just too big for you to fix.”

            I hear a slight shuffle as he sits against the door. There’s a long pause. “Jezalie?”

            “Yeah Norman?” I respond, trying to clear my voice. I sound tired, even to myself.

            “Don’t get hurt, okay?” Norman whispers, causing a faint smile to grace my lips.

            “I won’t get hurt Norman. I promise, okay?”

            “Okay.” He murmurs and stays a moment as though he’s thinking about something, before gently getting up and walking away.

            Once I’m alone I allow myself to rationalize for a moment. He was angry, upset, and what he said did hold a sliver of truth in it. I decide I don’t feel like being rational just yet and crack open a bottle of vodka, pressing the cool glass against my lips and welcoming the burn.

Dylan POV

            I groan in frustration, slamming my palms against the side of my truck as black smoke belches out from beneath the hood. “You piece of SHIT!”

            I kick the front tire but that does no good. Of all the times for my truck to break down, it has to be when I’m about to lose the love of my life all because I couldn’t handle that Emma was gone.

            I’m pulled out of my pacing and cursing by my phone’s shrill ring. When I see that the screen reads “NORMA”, I ignore the call and go back to leaning over the hood, trying to figure out what could possibly be the matter so that I can just go home. To Jezalie. I feel nausea gnawing at my insides as I recall everything I said to her and everything that lead up to the moment I saw the tears trying to make their way out of her eyes. I’d promised myself that I would never be the one to make her cry.

            I’m snapped out of it by my phone ringing insistently once again as “NORMA” flashes across the screen. I ignore it once again, but when she calls back immediately, I finally answer, unable to deal with the shrill ringtone distracting me from the engine in front of me.

            “What Norma?! What could you possibly want from me right now?!”

            “Dylan, you need to come home right now!”

            “You don’t own me Norma! And I have no idea why you suddenly want me to be there! It’s not like-“

            “Just shut up and listen to me Dylan! It’s Jezalie. She came to the motel and locked herself in a room. I’m very worried about her Dylan, I’ve never heard her like this before. You have to come home!”

            “What do you think I’m trying to do?! My truck broke down on the side of the road and now I’m ten miles out of town trying to figure out how the heck I’m supposed to get back to her and make everything okay!”

            “She told me she’s leaving in the morning Dylan, and I’m pretty sure she meant the town, not just my motel, so you need to find a way to get back here before she leaves!”

            “I’m trying my best but you’re going to have to stall her a bit!”

            “Fine!”

            I glare at my phone and Norma hangs up. I walk back to the front of my truck and peer under the hood once more before deciding that if I walked I’d be able to make it by morning. As I turn to begin my long, damp journey I remember the first time I met Jezalie.

Flashback

            Dylan closed his truck door as gently as possible as he pulled into the parking lot of the Motel, seeing a slight shadow of a figure moving in the window of the office as he smiles gently, wanting to surprise Emma. He steps softly up to the door and pushes it open swiftly, rattling the bells above the door, and is surprised to see Norman laughing with a beautiful girl dressed in black with soft looking dark blonde hair and glittering green eyes. He stops in the doorway and just stares as she looks up at him, staring back at him with a soft blush rising to her cheeks.

            “Oh! Dylan! This is Jezalie. She’s going to be working here until Emma recovers.”

            “What do you mean recovers?!” I whip my head towards Norman, my eyes widening. She hadn’t called to tell me anything was wrong.

            “It’s really alright. She’ll be fine soon. She pulled down a dusty book and it set her off, so Norma forced her to take the month off.” Jezalie responded.

            “And who are you?” Dylan asks the girl, realizing afterwards that he probably sounded rude, but decided not to care.

            “Jezalie is a friend of mine and Emma’s from school. She’s actually a very talented writer. You should read some of her work sometime.” Norman offers to Dylan, a small smirk curving his lips as he notices Dylan’s attraction to the girl.

            “Oh, hush you!” Jezalie laughs, slapping Norman on the shoulder and drawing a laugh from him as well

            “Well, we can’t all be as modest as you.” Norman sasses with another smirk.

            “Oh, please.” Jezalie laughs, then turns to Dylan, a more guarded look on her face and in her eyes as she chuckles, “My writing is crap and I promise you, you don’t want to hear any of it.”

            Jezalie glances at the clock and her eyes widen. “Shoot, well, my shift is over, and I have to go now. Places to be and people to see. Thank you for keeping me company down here Norman… Dylan.” She nods to each in turn and collects her things in a rush as she heads out the door.

            It’s silent between the two brothers for a long moment before Norman breaks the silence. “Be careful now Dylan. I don’t think she’d be able to take it.” He says before brushing past Dylan to exit the office, leaving Dylan standing there, brow furrowed and thoughts churning. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Dylan concludes to himself that Norman talking about Emma and her condition and doesn’t realize until much later that he was really talking about Jezalie all along.

Jezalie POV

            I drink until I can feel nothing at all, the voices screaming at me from inside my head mellowed into dull whispers and faint throbbing. I press the glass top of another bottle against my lips, frowning and probing out with my tongue when its not flooded with a wave of bitterness. I pull the bottle away from my lips, squinting my eyes against the blurriness and signing when I realize its empty, tossing it with the others. I realize then that I must leave. I can’t stay around here any longer.

            I groan as I attempt to right myself and stagger gracelessly the few feet towards the door, stopping only momentarily to grab a large whiskey bottle and open it up to tide me over for the long journey to who-knows-who-cares-where. I push the motel door open and stumble out into the dark night, pulling out my keys to open the dented door of my 1998 Chevy Silverado, pressing the open bottle into the passenger seat, and going back inside for my bag full of the only belongings I have, which have grown in number since feeling like I could finally settle down with Dylan. At the thought of his name I bite back a sob and shake my head, closing the motel door and carelessly tossing the half-opened bag into the backseat while dragging myself inside the truck and landing on the seat with a heavy plop.

            It takes me a couple tries until I manage to shove the key into the ignition before starting the truck and peeling out of the parking lot, all that’s left of my stay a streak of rubber a resounding screech, and a clatter of gravel sprayed elsewhere by my spinning back tires. I pull out dizzyingly quickly onto the road, gunning my engine for the middle of nowhere.

Dylan POV

            Jezalie came into my life at the beginning of my relationship with Emma that fateful day at the motel, and before that I had thought that Emma was it for me. Jezalie was a beautiful mystery to me that I’d just wanted to figure out. She was a closed book and it made me want to know every little thing about her; what made her tick, why she seemed so guarded when she met someone knew. I wanted to figure out what was in her heart. I remembered the second time I ever saw her.

Flashback

            I grabbed Emma’s hand gently as we walked out of the diner. We started down the road, talking and laughing when she suddenly tugged my hand and pointed to a familiar girl walking down the street, head down and shoulders tucked in, a pack of beer sitting atop the pile of groceries in the reusable bag in her hand.

            “Have you met Jezalie?” Emma asks me excitedly, pulling me in her direction before calling her name.

            “Yeah. I met her when I went to surprise you at the motel the other day.” I answer. “She seemed nice.”

            “She’s so sweet! I love her! She’s sort of shy until you really get to know her. Did you know that she’s actually…”

            Emma trails off as Jezalie finally hears her name being called as we come into earshot and turns around, eyes wide and nervous until she sees Emma and her face breaks into a smile. Emma lets go of my hand as she pulls Jezalie into a hug

            “Hey Emma.” She smiles as Emma pulls away from her and her eyes shield over as she glances momentarily at me.

            “Jezalie! This is my boyfriend Dylan.” Emma wraps her arms around mine and presses her head into my shoulder.

            “Yeah, we actually met at the motel the other day when he came looking for you.” Jezalie smiles at Emma. She fidgets with her bag, picking at the frayed edges of one of the handles, bringing my attention once again to the beer in the bag.

            “They just let a seventeen-year-old walk away with beer these days?” I tease, an attempt at breaking down her aversion towards me. “Or did you pay someone off?”

            “I’ll have you know that I’m old enough to buy my own beer, thank you.” She smirks wryly, a small crack appearing in her guarded expression.

            “Yep! I was just about to tell you! Jezalie is 22. She had to drop out of high school earlier to work, but decided that she wants to finish no matter what!” Emma’s eyes shine with fond admiration as she looks at her friend, which makes me smile and Jezalie’s face grow guarded again as a dark red overtakes her face.

            “Well, I admire that. I don’t know if I’d ever want to go back to high school.” I say with a smile, trying to get her to stop looking like she wanted to either run far away or just die on the spot.

            “Uh… yeah. Um, thank you. I just need to finish so that I can work jobs that I actually enjoy.” She jokes but remains guarded this time.

            “We should all hang out together sometime! You really need some friends your own age.” Emma teases, a bright smile on her face.

            Jezalie looks at me for a moment as though assessing how I felt about the situation before she says, “I’d like that. It would be kind of nice to have friends that can consume alcohol.” She flashes the last sentence at Emma teasingly, causing Emma to laugh.

            “We always could if you’d supply!”

            “Absolutely not. We’ve already discussed this!” Jezalie laughs. “I’ve got to head home now, but I’ll see you guys around.”

            She gives a small smile in my direction before continuing her way down the street.

            “She talks more when you get to know her. It just takes a little bit of persistence.” Emma smiles at me before grabbing my arm and pulling me back down our original path.

            I grimace at the memory. She was just a thing of morbid fascination for me until I actually got to know her. Emma wanted us so badly to be friends, and I’m grateful to her for what she did, even if we did end up hurting her in the end.

            I take in a deep breath, feeling the icy air chill twine through lungs before exhaling it into a pale cloud barely visible against the darkness, allowing myself a small, bittersweet smile at the day she finally accepted me. They day I realized that she meant something more to me than I’d ever thought she could.

Flashback Dylan’s POV

            I glance at the door in confusion as I listen to the sound of shoes softly shifting on my front doorstep, catching the slight rustle of plastic. I reach out for my gun and creep towards the door as the shuffling stops for a moment and the doorbell rings. I take a quick glance through the covered window of the door and quickly discard my gun, pulling the door open to see a shifting, slightly red-faced Jezalie standing outside, a grocery bag clenched between whitened knuckles and her shoulder hunched in, looking up at me from where she had been staring nervously at the ground.

            “Jezalie? What are you doing here?” I ask.

            “Hey, Dylan. Uh… Emma thought it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other. She, um, seemed really excited about it… I brought beer?” Jezalie smiles awkwardly for a second. “I mean, I can go if you want.”

            “No one can say no to Emma, can they?” I ask with a smile, amused at the situation. This brings a larger smile to Jezalie’s lips.

            “No, they really, really can’t. She’s just too sweet.” She smiles fondly as she meets my eyes more confidently.

            “Plus, I’d never pass up free beer.” I smile once again and I feel like my heart stops beating for a moment when her eyes shine with happiness and her smile widens infectiously.

            “Well. What are we waiting for then?” She smiles and I invite her inside for beer and deep conversation.

            “What do you want to do with your life?” I ask her as we lay on the floor, a couple beers in and just staring up at my blank ceiling.

            “Write. Anything and everything. I want to pour out my heart and soul between the pages of a book and just help people find solace in the words.” She says, gracefully swaying her hand in the air above us, moulding and touching the light slanted through the window with a sort of intense fascination. An overwhelming sense of calm and fondness washes over me in a single wave as my heart gives a slight flutter at the ghost of a smile crossing her face when I turn my head to look at her. “You?” She asks, turning her head and meeting my gaze head on and I can’t help but continue looking deep into her soft green eyes, pausing for a moment or two and allowing myself to be in that moment with her.

            “I have no idea.” I stare dead into her eyes and she smiles slightly, placing her hand on the floor in between us, next to my hand, before brushing her pinkie gently against mine as she glances down at our hands, the first time we touched. I stare at her staring at us as my heart swells painfully at the comfort offered by the gesture. I give her a small, grateful smile when she looks back up into my eyes, brows furrowed before breaking off into a sly smirk.

            “I know for a fact that weed is not the only thing your good at.”

            I let out a loud laugh at that, eyes widening and my brows shooting towards my hairline as she breaks down into a fit of giggles, glancing at me a bit smugly, pleased at making me laugh.

            She rolls onto her stomach, resting her body onto her elbows and forearms, looking down at her clasped hands in front of her before she turns her head to me, face serious, resting the side of her face against her arms. “What do you want most out of life?”

            I pause for a long moment, turning over onto my stomach and into the same position as her. I look down at my hands and sigh before I lick my lips and glance at her, head up. “To be happy and live a life full of laughter.” I grin. She grins back and turns her head to smile into her arms. “What about you Jezalie? What do you want out of life?” I turn onto my side, resting my head on my hand, arm outstretched and bent at the elbow, looking slightly up and sideways at her now.

            She pauses to take a deep breath before looking at me and giving me a gentle smile with far-away eyes, “To be safe. To find someone who I love and who loves me, and stay with them forever. Or, at least as long as humanly possible.” She smirks wryly, chuckling, “Hopelessly romantic, I know.” She cradles her head in her arms, pulling a grin onto my face as I stare at her, glancing down at the ground for a second before looking at her in awe again.

 _Last time we talked, the night that I walked_  
Burns like an iron in the back of my mind  
I must've been high to say you and I  
Weren't meant to be and just wasting my time  
Oh, why did I ever doubt you?  
You know I would die here without you

Dylan POV - PRESENT

My phone startles me out of my memories. Norman’s name flashes across the screen this time and I answer immediately. “Norman? What’s wrong?”  
            “It’s Jezalie… She-she’s gone, and I don’t know what to do. I just went down to the motel to check on her and she was just gone Dylan, she was gone and there’s nothing left except bottles and cans and just, everything smells like alcohol and smoke and I’m really worried Dylan, she-”

            “Norman! Take a deep breath, okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I speak quickly as my heartbeat escalates and I feel the adrenaline rise, pushing the panic roiling inside me up into my chest, threatening to smother me. “She’s going to be fine. I’ll be there soon okay.”

            “O-okay Dylan.” Norman’s voice is urgent and panicked.

            I pause before I hang up. “Everything’s going to be okay Norman. I promise. Everything will be fine.” I say, not quite believing what I said, trying to convince myself.

            “I hope you’re right.” Norman mutters before he hangs up and I’m left staring at the receiver before checking the time and pocketing the phone.

            “No… You were supposed to leave in the morning, Jezalie. I was supposed to be back in time.” My feet won’t move no matter how hard I force them as this _feeling_ washes over me from head to foot until I shake my head and stifle the sob that tries to break free, the fight coming back to me.

Flashback Dylan POV

            I wrap my arm around Jezalie as she snuggles into my right side on our old black leather couch in our cheap apartment that we’d been renting together for two months now. I smile fondly, and sigh with contentment, pressing my lips to the top of her head and burying my nose in her hair, getting a gentle whiff of her green apple shampoo before a smile curves my lips upward. She giggles and burrows her face into my chest and I reach over and take her left hand in my free one as the show we were previously watching comes back after commercials. I trace her hand a finger at a time until my finger brushes the cool metal resting on her ring finger and my smile grows, remembering when I proposed to her three months ago in the middle of a thunderstorm. I chuckle softly, and she shushes me, smacking my chest with her free hand, “Hush you! The show’s back on!”

            I laugh again and cuddle her closer, tickling her as she begins to laugh, “No! Stop! We’re going to miss… Well now we’ve obviously missed something important.”

            I glance back up at the screen, seeing one of the main characters lying on the ground in pain with a gunshot wound, and laugh, continuing to tickle her anyways. Suddenly I feel fingers trace lightly up the back of my neck until the come to a rest in my hair as she pulls my face down to hers, both of us laughing into the kiss. I try reaching out for her and pulling her back in as she moves away and turns off the TV before, still laughing, crawls into my lap and kisses me again. I smile and wrap my arms around her waist, reciprocating before ripping myself away in shock at the shrill ring of the phone cuts into the silence. She looks down at me, eyebrow raised, and I pout at her. She rolls her eyes and chuckles, “Fiiiiine.” She pulls herself off me and retreats to the kitchen where I overhear her breathlessly answer the phone, her gorgeous smile somehow making its presence known through her words.

            I sit up straighter the second I hear her voice become somber and serious.

            “Yes… We’re both here.” I hear as I walk quietly into the kitchen and stand at the doorway closest to where Jezalie had a white-knuckled grip on the wall phone.

            “May I ask why you’re calling?”

            (“Jezalie… I, I don’t know how to say this, but… Emma’s been in an accident-.”) I faintly overhear Norma’s voice as I walk closer.

            “She’s- What? How- When?!”

            (“Three hours ago. She was in a very bad accident. Her Bug was hit head on by a semi on a freeway on her way to Seattle.”)

            “Is-is she alright?!” Jezalie’s voice begins to break

            (“I… Jezalie, Emma’s dead. She was pronounced dea… dead on scene. There was no… nothing they could do to save her.”) At this I move away from the phone, staring at it, unable to breathe and think as the weight of the words set in.

            “Thank you for letting us know.” Is all Jezalie can get out, her face equally shocked as mine.

            “The funeral… the funeral is going to be in a few weeks’ time. I can let you know more of the details as I hear them. I’m so sorry.”

            “I’m sorry too Norma. Yes, please let us know. I have to go. Goodbye Norma.” With that Jezalie near slams the phone down as her hands shake.

            “She’s… she’s dead, Dylan.” Her voice quivers as she looks to me for comfort. “Emma’s dead. We… we all thought she’d be safe now that she can breathe but she wasn’t. Not from that truck.”

            I hold Jezalie as she collapses into my arms in tears, letting my own fall freely.

(Three Weeks Later – One Week After The Funeral)

            I look at Jezalie, shaking as she grieves, and all I can feel is the deep dark swell of anger rising up from within me as Emma’s father’s words start to make sense, and it dawns on me that she was going to Seattle to get away from us. From our betrayal. “It’s our fault.” I whisper, moving my eyes away from Jezalie and focussing them on the chipped linoleum tile at my feet.

            “What…?” Jezalie whispers, horrified.

“It’s ALL OUR FAULT! She’s _DEAD_ because of _US_! Don’t you realize that! She was leaving here to get away from US! She was moving to Seattle so she wouldn’t have to see our faces anymore and be reminded of what we took from her! Of what YOU took from her by loving me, and what I took from her by being STUPID ENOUGH to love you back!”

            “We NEVER did anything to betray her! We FELL IN LOVE with each other! We didn’t cheat on her! We told her before we even thought about doing ANYTHING because we CARED about her! We LOVED HER! Because she was our _friend_!” Jezalie’s eyes are filled with hurt but I can’t seem to find it in me to care that her eyes are welling up with tears that are about to overflow. For once, I don’t care that she’s hurting.

“Friend? Is THAT what you want to call it? She was nice enough to care about you and give you friends, yet all you can do in repayment is take her boyfriend away?” I snarl. “I am the reason she’s dead, and SO ARE YOU! STOP DENYING IT! SOME BEST FRIEND YOU WERE!”

“AND SOME BOYFRIEND YOU WERE!” She screamed back, the tears she’s barely kept at bay teetering on the edges of her eyelids. “What about YOU, huh? What happened to the fact that YOU pursued ME just as much as I pursued you! That YOU also held a commitment to her! That you BROKE OFF the commitment because you realized that you loved me more than her! That you only love her as a friend! That you told me that NOTHING ELSE MATTERED than being with me, even if it meant losing her, at least for a time, because we all knew she was a loving person and that people love her so much more easily than they do you and I.”

            “GOD! Stop it with you and your useless grammar! You are never going to amount to anything, Jezalie! It’s time you realized that an ENGLISH MAJOR will never GET YOU ANYWHERE!” I scream.

            “OH! I SEE! So, we’re getting into that then? What about your DRUG BUSINESS DYLAN?! Do you think that I REALLY WANT to be with someone who is an expert in MARIJUANA?! I’d LOVE for you to have a job that won’t make me worry you’re being SHOT DEAD EVERY TIME YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE! So don’t talk to be about my dreams for the future getting me nowhere! AT LEAST I HAVE DREAMS!”

            “I bet you’re glad she’s dead!”

            “What?!”

            “I BET. YOU’RE GLAD. SHE’S DEAD!” I scream. “BECAUSE NOW IT MEANS YOU WON’T HAVE TO BE SO DAMN INSECURE ALL THE TIME!”

            “You KNOW that my insecurities DID NOT start because of this. They started a LONG time ago and I can’t BELIEVE I thought that you would be the ONE PERSON that would actually UNDERSTAND! BECAUSE IT’S OBVIOUS NOW THAT YOU _NEVER DID_!”

“Sometimes I just HATE YOU! I wish that I’d never met you!” At this I see her anger falter before me to be replaced by a drawn, blank expression.

“What are you saying Dylan? I thought you loved me!”

“I did. Before all this. But not now that she’s dead and its our fault.” The tears start to fall now and I watch with a feeling of sick satisfaction at making her feel the hurt like I was.

“ _What are you saying Dylan…?”_ Her voice shakes, and she is no longer steady, no longer pretending to be strong and brave. Instead she breaks, no longer keeping the pain I was causing her from the surface, letting it all flow out across her face like a wave that makes me regret what I was doing to her. But I wasn’t finished yet.

“WHAT DOES IT SOUND LIKE I’M SAYING?! I’M LEAVING! I CAN’T BELIEVE I EVER THOUGHT I LOVED YOU!”

“Dylan! What-? No, I’m sorry!”

“I’m leaving.”

“After everything we’ve been through?”

            “Goodbye Jezalie.”

            With that I grab my keys and leather jacket and leave, not noticing a single thing until I’m sitting inside my truck, staring up at the room I’d just left the love of my life broken inside, guilt eating me alive as a wave of nausea rises within me and I taste bile at the back of my throat. I tear out of the parking lot, needing to get away and let us both calm down before trying to work things out. We HAD to work things out. I don’t know if I could ever live without her, and don’t think I could live with never being able to tell her that. Never being able to make things right.

 

 

 

Dylan POV - PRESENT

“I can’t lose it. Not now.” I think to myself before picking up the pace and breaking into a run, adrenaline making me feel like anything was possible. I pick up my phone and dial her number as I run.

Jezalie POV Flashback

“Emma… We have something to tell you.” Dylan says, reaching out gently and taking Emma’s hand in his. It was four months after the surgery and she was almost completely healed, back home in White Pine Bay so she could make her decision on whether or not she wanted to move to Seattle. While the choice was tentative, she was pretty sure she’d say yes. She had asked Dylan to move with her two weeks ago.

            “Dylan? Jezalie? What is it? Are you guys okay?” She tightens her grip on Dylan’s hand while reaching out for mine.

            “We… we’re alright Emma. There’s nothing wrong with either of us. We just need to talk about something with you, I hold her hand tightly, not sure if she’ll ever allow me to again after what we tell her.

            “Then what’s wrong?” She asks, looking between Dylan and I, staring intently, worried.

            I look at Dylan, his head low as I meet his eyes. I offer him a small, sad quirk of my lips. He responds in kind before looking back up at Emma and taking a deep breath.

            “Emma… I… I fell in love with Jezalie. We aren’t together and we haven’t done anything. I… we would never stoop so low as to hurt you like that. But I’m so sorry. I… can’t help it, no matter how much I didn’t want to hurt you.” Dylan’s head hangs low, barely meeting Emma’s moistening eyes.

            “I’m so sorry. You’ve been such a good friend to me, and I never wanted to hurt you, but then I fell for Dylan and I didn’t know I could feel that way about someone, and we knew that we had to tell you, even if nothing comes from it, because we both love you too much to do this behind your back. So, even though we – I – know we don’t deserve it, I really hope you can forgive me. Can forgive u-us.” My voice breaks as I say the last word, guilt eating my alive as the tears begin to fall and I clutch her limp hand in between both of mine, resting my forehead against where they’re clasped. “I’m so sorry.”

            “I- I just need time. Okay. And space.” She says, gently pulling her hands away from us, “I understand, I really do. And I appreciate that you came to me, but right now it hurts. A lot. And I can’t do this right now. I’ll come find you guys when I’m ready to talk. But for now, I just need to be left alone. Just- just know that I really am happy for you both.” Her voice becomes foggy with unshed tears as she stands there, slowly backing away from us, not letting us see her break down as we both stand up, watching her leave.

            “We don’t deserve her. She doesn’t deserve this.” I whisper.

            Dylan pulls me into a gentle hug. “No. She doesn’t. But right now, all I know is that I love you, and I don’t want anything to change that. She’ll understand eventually. Nothing else matters more to me right now than you, as insensitive as it sounds. I didn’t want to keep hurting either of you, so this had to be done…”

            “I love you, Dylan.” I hug myself tightly and press my head against his chest.

            “I love you too, Jezalie.” He takes my face in his hands gently and kisses my forehead before tightly wrapping his arms around me. In his arms I felt like everything would be okay. Dylan would protect me.

Jezalie POV – Present

            I’m startled out of the memory by the shrill ring of the cellphone thrown haphazardly into the seat next to me, cutting through my inebriated state and into my fading consciousness. I pull over to the side of the dark highway out of town and listen as it goes to voicemail. I listen dumbly as Dylan’s voice washes over me, sending pangs of calm and love, and hatred and pain to the pit of my stomach.

            “Hey Jezalie… I know why you’re not answering this right now and, well, I want you to know, if you even listen to this message, that I’m so incredibly sorry for earlier. I love you so much and didn’t mean anything that I said. I need to say more when we find you, but for now I just hope you’re safe. I love you, Jezalie. Please, just… come home.”

            Dylan’s voice peters out and I’m left with overwhelming silence. I take another swig from my bottle and begin to turn back out onto the highway, a destination finally in mind when suddenly all there is, is a long beep of a horn as a bright light careens towards me, blinding me. Then blackness comes with the crunching of metal and a scream that I’m sure came from me.

Dylan POV

When I finally reach the motel, the first thing I see is Romero’s police cruiser parked in the front drive, which isn’t exactly unusual of course, but it still drives a cold icy shock up my spine. I race up the steps and into the house, calling for Norma, Norman, Jezalie; anyone who’d be able to answer me. I walk into the living room to see Romero sitting across from a sobbing Norman pressed into a stricken Norma’s side, in a manner similar to, I assume, the earlier news of Emma’s death.

            Romero stands up when he sees me and Norma’s head whips up, eyes holding a sparkle of fear. “Norman? What’s wrong?” I ask the teary boy, a sinking feeling in my stomach as the cold hand of fear grips me tight.         

            When he doesn’t respond I turn to Norma and Romero. “W-what is it? What happened? Is Jezalie…”

            “Dylan, can I please talk to you in private?” Romero asks me and I nod numbly, feeling everything growing far away.

            When we sit down the first thing out of my mouth is, “Is Jezalie okay?”

            Romero looks at me before taking in a slow breath, letting it out as a sigh, and licking his lips before regaining eye contact with me. “I don’t know.”

            “That what _do_ you know?!” I ask, voice rising in pitch desperately, heartrate picking up pace once again.

            “All I can tell you right now is that she was in a bad accident, her car was totalled, and we have no idea where she is. There is more information, but unfortunately, I have to ask you to come down to the station for questioning before I can discuss said information with you.” Romero’s voice is calm and stern as he watches the realization dawn on me that they think I could have had something to do with her disappearance.   

_You and I, right or wrong, there's no other one_  
After this time I spent alone  
It's hard to believe that a man with sight could be so blind  
Thinkin' 'bout the better times, must've been outta my mind  
So I'm runnin' back to tell you  
  
All that I'm after is a life full of laughter  
Without you God knows what I'd do

The ride down to the station was a dull blur and the next thing I know I’m seated behind the glass wall of an interrogation room, a pit in my stomach as I wait for someone to come through the doors and begin questioning. I don’t have to wait long when Romero walks through the door with an important-looking man that I’ve never seen before.

            “Dylan, this is Agent Jones with the FBI. They are here because they have more information about Jezalie’s case and will be here to make sure that I give away only what is necessary and to discuss some external details. Is that alright?” Romero’s face is tense in a way that tells me there is no choice despite the fact that it was offered.

            “That’s fine, Sheriff.” I murmur, rubbing my damp palms across the knees of my jeans.

            “Dylan, I want you to remember that you can call a lawyer at any time and you can walk out that door at any time, but if you want to stay and help us put together that night, we can more quickly retire the possibility that you are in any way involved in Jezalie’s disappearance so that you will be allowed to hear the information that will be made available to you.”

            “I understand. I will do anything I can to help.”

            “Dylan, what is your relation to Jezalie DuMont?” Romero begins the interrogation.

            “Jezalie is my fiancée of four months.” I respond.

            “How long have you two been together?”

            “Two years.”

            “What was the nature of your relationship after the death of Emma Decody?”

            “Strained. We let our emotions about it fester for three weeks before it resulted in a fight yesterday.”

            “What was the fight about?”  
            “We both said things we didn’t mean, and I told her that I didn’t love her anymore and that our relationship killed Emma because she never would have been on her way to Seattle if it weren’t for our relationship.”

            “Can you elaborate on why you think your relationship killed Emma?”

            “I don’t really believe it. Emma’s father was saying thing at the funeral, and I knew it was just because he was hurting. I was also feeling upset, guilty, and backed into a corner. Emma decided to move to Seattle after Jezalie and I got engaged in order to be closer to the hospital there. Jezalie and I were back to easy, friendly terms with Emma long before we got engaged or even serious about our relationship.”

            “Why did you feel guilty about Ms. Decody’s death?”

            “I used to be her boyfriend and I fell in love with Jezalie, who was a mutual friend of ours, so I felt guilty that I hadn’t been the boyfriend that she deserved because she never really ended up in another serious relationship after I told her that I couldn’t be with her because I also had feelings for her friend.”

            “Did you have anything to do with Jezalie’s disappearance?”

            “No.”

            “Where were you between the hours of 12am and 5am this morning?”

            “I was walking back from out of town because my truck broke down a few miles out and had previously decided to wait for a tow truck until I heard that Jezalie left the motel and that she was drunk, so I decided to walk back.

            “Why were you so far out of town?”

            “I was angry after the fight and stormed out. I drove to the next town over and was on my way back to apologize when my truck broke down.”

            “Did you try to contact Ms. DuMont at any point since the fight?”

            “Yes. When I was told that she’d taken off I called her twice and left one voicemail.”

            The questions continued as the Sheriff and the Agent worked to piece together the last 24 hours until they finally deemed me not a person of interest. At this point Agent Jones leaned forward and the Sheriff took some time to lean back and listen, watching me carefully as Agent Jones began to speak.

            “Mr. Masset, how well would you say you know Jezalie DuMont?”

            “I’d say I know her very well, Sir.”

            “How much as she told you about her past?”

            “She’s told me stories about her childhood, as well as that her mom died.”

            “How much do you know of her life before she came to White Pine Bay?”

            “Not a lot, she wasn’t very talkative about it and I didn’t want to push her.”

            “Did she ever tell you why she came to White Pine Bay?”

            “Not really. I remember her telling me something vague maybe, but to me it was like she’d always been here so I never questioned her.”

            “Before we continue with this, I need to inform you that what you are about to hear you are not allowed to convey to another person unless we have given you expressed clearance, and that you are being told only what we are able and are allowed to tell you, nothing more, and nothing less. We reserve the right to keep any information from anyone outside of law enforcement or the FBI. Sheriff Romero will be briefed on and have more access to details that you are not allowed to know, and therefore must not pressure him to give, or he will be given the right to press charges. Do you understand?”

            “Yes, sir. I understand.”

            Agent Jones nods his head, shifts in his seat, and looks me in the eye before continuing, “Did Jezalie ever tell you that she is in the Witness Protection Program?”

            “She’s… What?” I gape at the older man. I then look at Romero, who isn’t meeting my gaze. “Did you know about this?”

            Romero looks up then, realizing that I’m speaking to him and attempts to placate me, “No! No, I had no idea. It wasn’t until I had to fill out an accident report that I saw it. She’s kept herself clean the entire time she was in town. There was no need to know.”

            “What do you mean ‘no need to know’? She was in witness protection! You were supposed to _protect_ the witness!” My voice begins escalating in both severity and noise level.

            “He didn’t need to know because that’s what _I_ am here for.” Detective Jones reaches across the table and gently pats it in a manner that I somehow found calming. “I was in this town the whole time. There has been no sign of anything, and even this accident seems to be clean of anything that she was being protected from. It was just an accident.”

            “Tell me about the accident.” I whisper.

            “Are you sure you want to hear this? The details may not be completely accurate. All of this is only speculation.” Romero says, holding up his hand to stop Detective Jones when he opened his mouth to speak.

            “I have to know.” I insist.

            “Jezalie DuMont seems to have been driving drunk. She had a bottle of whiskey in the car and there was a strong smell of alcohol coming from the vehicle. What we managed to piece together seems to be that she pulled over to the side of the road to do whatever it may have been, like answer her phone or listen to voicemails. You did say you were in a fight after all. Jezalie then seemed to have tried to pull back out onto the highway without looking, and was sidelined by a semi truck. We think this because the truck and driver were still there and the driver gave us his testimony. Jezalie’s vehicle was then smashed into on the driver’s side, and then was rolled fifteen feet off the freeway, past a ditch, and over a fence. We think she was wearing a seatbelt because it was cut through with what seemed like a blade of some sort. There was blood in the car but not enough to determine how injured she might be. But if she was hit on the drivers side, then there is a very small possibility that she survived the night with injuries she would have sustained. There was no sign of Jezalie anywhere in a 100 metre radius and her phone was left behind and destroyed.”

            I take a deep breathe to attempt to stem the fear clawing its way up my gut and into my stomach. “She could be alive though?”

            “We can’t be certain of anything much at this moment other that she was drunk, and she was in a bad accident.” Romero calms me.

            “And that it has nothing to do with the reason behind her being in Witness Protection.” Detective Jones adds.

            “Why was Jezalie in Witness Protection?” I ask.

            “There are very few details I can allow to be discussed. Romero can brief you, but even he doesn’t know much. If you can’t understand that you cannot know everything, or if you can’t understand that you can’t tell anyone, or that people will know more than you and that you can’t ask questions or try to press for information, then we are obliged to keep you in the dark. We will be making you sign a confidentiality agreement and if you do any of the things I told you not to do, you will be arrested and charged for coercion. Agreed?”

            “Agreed.” I say with as much conviction as I can force into my voice. Detective Jones then nods and pulls a sheet of paper out of his briefcase and talks me through the process. I sign where he directs me to and files the sheet away back in his case.

            “Good luck Dylan. I wish you all the best in finding her and making things right. She is an incredible woman and you are very lucky to have her.” Detective Jones’ smile holds a melancholy tinge as he shakes my hand.

            “I am very lucky. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I smile softly and he smiles back before leaving.

            “Are you ready?” Romero asks me once I’m settled again.

            “Yes.”

            “I will tell you some of the basic details and then you can ask questions that I may or may not answer. Is that okay?”

            “Yes.”

            “Okay. Jezalie is in Witness Protection because she was witness to a violent attack on her mother that would have ended in death if it weren’t for Jezalie showing up. Jezalie’s mother was sent to one side of the continent and Jezalie to the other. The rest of their family was relocated in the middle. She has been slowly moved closer to the rest of her family and has been allowed to go back home for six months now, but hasn’t left White Pine Bay because she met you and wanted to stay with you. She has already testified and I can’t tell you when, but as a precaution she is still under protection for the next two years. I also can’t tell you where the rest of her family is, except for that her mother has made it back to the rest of her family.”

            Romero stops talking and looks at me expectantly. “Is her name really Jezalie?” I ask.

            “Yes and no. It is her middle name.”

            “Is her last name hers?”

            “Yes. Her identity here is the closest to her real one, so they allowed her to use the family name.”

            “How many different personas has she had?”

            “Thirty-two. One for each place she has been in.”

            “How long has she been under Witness Protecton?”

            “I can’t tell you that.”

            I nod at Romero’s response and fight the urge to press for more information about the woman I love. “Will you be able to tell me if you find her?”

            “Yes.”

            “Will you be able to tell me how she is and what happened?”

            “Yes.”

            “Will you be able to tell me where she is so I can see her?”

            “No. Not unless she gives permission, and not unless she is in White Pine Bay.”

            “Why?”

            “We don’t know what may have been done to cover up who she is.”

            “Can you give me more information on what you just said?”

            “No.”

            “I…. Okay.” I sigh, putting my head in my hands.

            “Do you have any more questions?” Romero asks.

            “No. Not right now.” I murmur, rubbing my eyes.

            “Then you are free to go. I’ll give you a call if we hear anything or if we need to hear more from you.”

            “Right. Thanks, Romero.” I sigh before lifting myself from the hard chair.

            Once I’m finally back in my truck, I press my palms to my eyes to try and stop the tears burning behind them. This is all my fault. Jezalie should be here in my arms and not out who knows where.

Jezalie POV - Present

            I see the red and white glow of hospital lights in front of me as I pull myself closer to civilization. I pull my hand away from my side to ascertain that the bleeding has now subsided to a barely-there trickle. I sigh in relief, which agitates the wound and groan, pressing my hand back over the puncture, picking up the pace. I throw the bright white door of the emergency entrance open, leaving smears of blood across shiny metal and glass. “Help!” I call, worry beginning to spike when I hear how feeble my voice sounds.

            I collapse a second later as five emergency personnel surround me and begin cutting my shirt away from the wound and placing me on a gurney, rolling me down the never-ending too-bright hallway that begins to darken as their voices grow fuzzy above me. I vaguely hear someone shout, “She’s losing consciousness!” before I do just that and everything goes dark.

           

            I wake up about an hour later to a dark man in a white coat writing on a clipboard beside the hospital bed. “Ah. I see Jane Doe is finally awake.” He smiles in a blinding flash of bright white teeth. “Can you tell me your name?”

            I groan in response to the question, groggy and still slightly incoherent and he chuckles. “It’s okay. Take your time.” I nod and reach out for the glass of water beside the bed.

            Taking this time, I finally give the place around me a once-over. The entire room was filled with things in various shades of white and metallic silver besides the one worn brown chair against the wall beside the bed. I was the only patient in the room so I deduce that I’m in the ICU. I groan again before responding to the doctor’s patient, questioning expression, “My name is Arya Jezalie DuMont.”

            “Very good, Ms. DuMont. Can you tell me what happened?” He asks.

            “I… got drunk. Then I was in an accident.” I murmur, the feelings I had suppressed before that were no longer numb with alcohol slamming back into me with renewed vengeance. I fight the tears with a long, shaky sigh.

            His face looks kinder now as though he can sense something isn’t quite right. “Can you tell me how much you drank?”

            “A lot.” I hiss, falling back against my bed and pressing my arm down over my face, trying to find some way to ground myself.

            “What caused you to drink so much?” He asks gently, a comforting hand resting on my elbow.

            “I fought with and broke up with my fiancé, one of my best friends died, my fiancé blames our relationship for killing our friend. Take your pick.”

            “Was this a suicide attempt?” He asks.

            “No.”

            “Tell me more about your accident.”

            “I was on the highway, I pulled over to listen to a voicemail from my fian… _ex_ -fiancé, then when I pulled back out onto the highway I was hit by a semi. I woke up in the car, it can’t have been more than a minute later, upside down about fifteen feet from the road, the semi truck that hit me was swerved across the road. Then I undid my seatbelt and walked until I got here.”

            “What side of your vehicle did the truck hit?” He asks.

            “My side. The driver’s side.” I groan, now poking at a large dark purple bruise that had taken up residence on my left arm.

            “I must let you know, Ms. DuMont, that you are extremely lucky. The driver must have been half asleep, because if he had hit you at full speed you would be dead.”

            “Speaking of, what exactly is the damage, Doc?” I sigh.

            “Miraculously, Ms.DuMont, you managed to escape this accident with only some bruises, a few cuts, a bruised rib, and that puncture wound in your side that managed to hit nothing vital. You were given 28 stitches to close the wound, and if it weren’t for that we’d let you go tomorrow after keeping you for observation.”

            “So when can I go home?”

            He chuckles knowingly. “I am going to tentatively say for at least a week, but it will all depend on how therapy and healing goes.”

            “Perfect.” I groan. “Do you have any pain meds that let me not be alone with my thoughts?”

            “Are you asking me to prescribe you medication to help you sleep or to make you delusional?” He jokes.

            “Either would be fine.” I scowl.

            “Fortunately the pain medication we give people in your condition will make you drowsy, so your thoughts shouldn’t be much of an issue.”

            “Thank God.” I sigh, settling back into my bed. “Please don’t let anyone come into this room unless it’s a legal issue.”

            “Of course.” He grins. “Try and get some sleep. We can also get you a therapist if you want to talk about your experience.”

            “No. No therapy. I just want to not think. Or remember.” I smile bitterly and he nods in response before leaving me alone in the unnaturally white room that smells like chemicals and death. I sigh and hope for nepenthe. I curl up on my side and allow myself to cry as hurt tugs at my heart, reliving the moments of the last months until the meds kick in and I drift into a deep sleep.

            Five days later I wake up to a familiar silhouette in the doorway the hospital room. The person becomes less of a silhouette and more of a human being as he steps into the room, no longer backlit. I give the man a small smirk. “Evening, Sheriff.”

            “Hello, Jezalie.” He says with a small smile that doesn’t reach his concerned eyes. He takes my acknowledgement of him to be an invitation and he sits down in the chair beside my bed. “How are you feeling?”

            “Like I was in a car accident. How are you feeling?” I roll my eyes.

            “Now’s not the time for that, Jezalie.” Romero says gently. “We need to talk about what happened.”

            I sigh. “Then ask the doctor. He asked me enough questions and seems intelligent enough to take detailed notes.”

            “I’d like to hear about it from you.” He coaxes softly. I see in his eyes how much he cares and I almost tear up. I push the feeling back down and try to push him away instead.

            “Why? So you can write up a more accurate DUI?” I snark.

            “Jezalie… you know that’s not what this is about.” He says and I see his hand reach out for me, but pulls it back before he can touch me.

            “I don’t want to see him.” I whisper.

            “Jezalie…” His voice is pushy.

            “No. I can’t see him. He hates me and I can’t bear that. I’m going home after I finish healing.” I answer, stubborn and nauseous at the thought of seeing him after seeing so much hatred in his face. _Dylan…_

            “Jezalie, please. He really wants to talk to you. He regrets what happened and just wants you to come back home. Everyone wants you to come home.” He says.

            “No. Nobody wants me back there. The only person who wants that is you and maybe Norman. Everybody else has expressly told me how little I mean to them.” I bite out.

            “Jezalie, just-“ He starts but I cut him off.

            “Romero, please. I think we both know that’s not my name.” I hiss, feeling pain run through me as he continuously uses that name. The name of the girl who had everything she’d always wanted and then had it all shoved back in her face.

            “You will always be Jezalie to me.” He says, his face serious in a way that makes me feel accepted for a moment.

            “You will always be the best not-dad I’ve had.” I say as tears come to my eyes, and his eyes grow wet, laughing despite of himself.

            “You’ll always bet he best not-daughter I’ve had.” A tear escapes his eyes. “I think leaving would be a mistake. You don’t know what you’re leaving behind. You should talk to them before you make your decision.” He grasps my hand gently now.

            I smile sadly at him. “I’ve already made my decision. I called my parents this morning. My… family is coming to pick me up tomorrow.”

            “Well… I don’t agree with your decision, but Jezalie, please, always remember that you have a family here too, okay? I don’t want you to ever forget us. And I want you to promise me that you will come back to visit when everything hurts just a little bit less.” He says, eyes serious as they bore into mine. I know then that he’s not going to let me go until I agree.

            “Yeah… yeah. I- I will. I just… will it ever stop hurting this much? It doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to stop.” I say and a sob breaks out of my lips and just like that I’m crying again. He pulls me into his arms and I feel him shaking a little, treating me like the child I never really got to be.

            “Shhh, shhhh. It’s okay. Jezalie you are going to be okay. You’ve been through a lot recently. It will eventually stop hurting this much, I promise. I know Emma still loved you. I know she loved both of you when she left. It wasn’t your fault and I want you to remember that. More people care about you than you know. You changed us all and we’ll never forget you for that.” He soothes, rubbing his hands up and down my arms and cradling me until the sobs subside into hiccups and then to sniffles. He runs his hand down my arm once more before slowly releasing me.

            “Thank you…” I say. “And I’m so sorry.”

            “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for letting me say goodbye.” He looks at me in a pointed way that makes guilt thread into a knot in my stomach and I look down, unable to meet his eyes. He knows me too well. He startles me out of my thoughts by gently squeezing my shoulder and I glance at him quickly. He catches my gaze and smiles wryly at me, making me let out an embarrassed chuckle.

            “You know me too well.” I smirk drily.

            “Well, I’m glad I do. You wouldn’t be you without some of your abrasive personality traits.” He chuckles, drawing a small grin out of me.

            “I resent that!” I laugh.

            “You know it’s true.” He smirks.

            “Oh hush, you.” I smile.

            “In response to your earlier question, I feel like shit. My not-daughter is leaving me for her actual family tomorrow and is leaving me to break the news to a bunch of people who will be very disappointed and hurt.” He says in a more serious tone.

            “They’ll get over it. Nobody misses me long.” I snort. “And don’t even try to tell me otherwise. You know I’m stubborn.”

            “Stubborn as an ox.” He agrees. “Please remember your promise.” I see him noting the time on the clock and realize visiting hours are almost over.

            “Why did it take you so long to show up?” I ask him, the curiosity niggling at the back of my mind. “I told them who I was when I first woke up.”

            “Are you kidding? They called me two hours before I showed up. I was furious that they took so long to find someone to contact. I came as soon as I could get away from the office and then I was here.” He smiles softly at me.

            I feel unexpected relief fill the pit of my stomach at the thought that he hadn’t waited a few days before showing up like I was nothing. I felt more important to him than I did before and I felt nausea pull at me, knowing it would make it harder to get into my parents’ car in the morning.

            A nurse appears in the doorway, “Visiting hours are over.” She says kindly.

            “Do you want me to come back tomorrow or do you want to say goodbye here?” Romero turns to me after he nods the woman away.

            “You can come back tomorrow if you want. I won’t be able to wait when they come, but if you manage to get here before they do, I’ll say goodbye then.” I say, not wanting to stretch his kindness any farther.

            “Of course. I’ll try to get here beforehand. But if I don’t, goodbye for now, kiddo.” He smiles wetly and pulls me into another tight hug. My injuries protest but I don’t care, hugging him back.

            “Goodbye for now. I… I really care about you, not-dad.” I say into his uniform.

            “I really care about you too, not-daughter.” He smiles before pulling away and standing up.

            “I’ll see you again, Jezalie.” He says as he reaches the doorway.

            “See you again, Romero.” I agree as he gives me another gentle smile before turning and leaving my doorway.

            I fall back on my bed, exhaustion coming over me and I curl up again, willing the tears away until I eventually drop back off into sleep.

Dylan POV – Present

            “What do you mean, “he’s not available?” He’s the sheriff! Where is he?” I exclaim. I had called to ask about any news on Jezalie, but was instead informed that he is unavailable.

            “I told you, he had to run out of town but should be back by tomorrow or the day after.” The receptionist’s voice was growing weary and strained as she reiterated the same sentence she’d been repeating to me. “I can’t tell you where he is.”

            “Fine.” I groan before hanging up. As I think it through, I feel a tinge of hope start to form deep inside. Jezalie had been missing for days now, and I hope that they’d managed to finally find her. And hopefully alive.

            I sigh, throwing my phone onto the bed, sitting down and cupping my head in my hands, running my fingers through my tangled blonde hair. I pick up the phone again and hesitate only momentarily before phoning Romero’s cell phone. He answers after the third ring.

            “Romero.” His voice fills my ear and I smile.

            “It’s Dylan.” I say.

            “I noticed. Why are you calling?” His voice is weary.

            “I was told you were out of town. I was wondering if you heard anything about Jezalie?” I ask hesitantly.

            “I’m not-“ He starts.

            I cut him off, “You told me you were able to tell me if you found her.”

            I hear a long drawn out sigh coming from his end, hesitating. “Dylan…”

            “Is she okay?” My voice shakes against my will as I immediately start thinking the worst.

            “She’s – uh – she’s okay. She’s found her way to a hospital and is being released tomorrow.” His voice is guarded, like he’s trying to keep something important to me.

            “And? What’s wrong? What are you hiding from me?” My voice rises in pitch and my breathing picks up slightly.

            “Dylan, can we not do this now. She’s fine. She’s going home tomorrow.” He sighs.

            “So I can see her tomorrow?” I ask.

            “Dylan… She’s going _home_ tomorrow.” I feel my breath catch and nausea hits the pit of my stomach. _She doesn’t want to see me_.

            “Where is she?” I ask, voice breaking.

            “I can’t tell you that.” Romero’s voice is hesitant.

            “I know she’s like a daughter to you. And you told me that you couldn’t tell me where her family is and that I wasn’t able to see her there in case I blew her cover. But I won’t. Romero, please. I love her and I messed up. I need her to know that I’m sorry. I have to tell her. _Please_.” I beg.

            “Dylan… They told you that you can’t try to coerce me like that. I could report you.” Romero’s voice is hard, but strained.

            “I- I know… I just have to tell her. I need to show her how much I still care before she goes.” I plead.

            Romero sighs and I think his resolve begins to crack.

           

Jezalie POV – Next day

            “Ms. DuMont, your family is here.” My doctor, who’s name I’ve discovered is Isaac Carrey, enters the room with his same bright smile that now gives me more comfort than anxiety.

            “Okay. Let them in.” I give him a small smile.

            “Okay. I’ve told them to wait until after I’ve examined you for the morning in order to allow you to prepare mentally.” He smiles knowingly.

            “Thank you.” I say, smiling in relief. He chuckles and begins his examination.

            When he finishes the examination he smile again and says, “Well, you’ve managed to heal faster than I imagined possible with the attitude you had,” He chuckles, “but you do need to take care to let everything heal fully while you’re out. I’ll be prescribing you some medications you can take for any discomfort, and giving you a set of instructions to strictly adhere to while you continue your healing at home. After two weeks, you need to get checked out again by a doctor where you are, and if he gives you a clean bill of health, you can ignore all of my instructions.”

            I smile at him. “Okay.”

            He smiles back and nods before turning towards the door.

            I pause for a second before calling out, “Doctor Carrey?”

            “Yes, Ms. DuMont?” He chuckles.

            “Thank you. So much. For everything. I know I wasn’t easy to deal with.” I give him a sheepish grin and he smiles fondly back at me.

            “You’re welcome. And, I know this will surprise you because it certainly surprised me, but I think I’m going to miss you. Just, please, don’t get into any more accidents okay? Not every doctor is as accepting as I am, nor will you necessarily be as lucky next time.” He grins a moment before stopping at the door. “I’ll send your family in now. Goodbye Ms. DuMont.”

            “Thank you. Goodbye Doctor Carrey.” He nods before opening the door and talking to the people standing outside it.

            I take a breath as they enter; worried about seeing them for the first time in years. I stare at them, taking them in as they do the same. I look at my dad, his face the same, just a little bit more wrinkled, a little bit more worried, but his eyes still hold their same comforting light. My mom I had seen more recently, but seeing her now was like seeing her all over again. She was a little greyer and a little more weary, but she was still the same woman from my memories. My sister Kailyn was older, and so was my brother John. They were both in high school now and I tear up at the thought that I’d missed both of their first days. Everyone is looking at me in a weary sort of awe, like they don’t want to startle me away. “What are you guys doing all the way over there?” I ask with a teary laugh as I cry happy tears for the first time since Dylan proposed, hating that I was crying yet again, and holding my pale arms out to my family.

            They all break out into grins and chuckles as they fling themselves towards me. The first person to reach me is Kailyn as she throws herself into my lap, wrapping her small arms around my waist and burying her freckled face into my shoulder. One of my arms instinctively wraps around her small, slight body and I bury my face into her pale brown hair as my mother and father reach me, pulling me into hugs from either side, dad’s blonde and mom’s brown hair melting together in front of my eyes, covering Kailyn who is pressed under them with a chuckle.

            I look to John to see him standing hesitantly in front of my bed and I grin at him, holding my one free arm out, “C’mon broski, I know you’re 18 now, but I expect a hug at this once in a lifetime situation.” I wink at him as he laughs and tucks himself under my free arm and rests his black-haired head in the crook of my neck. “Wait. When did you colour your hair? What did you do to my little Goldilocks brother?”

            He chuckles, “It’s your favourite colour. And I thought it’d look good.”

            “Awww. So you did miss me!” I tease, my heart feeling so light my tears slips out again.

            “No, no! Don’t you dare cry!” He laughs as he and the rest of the family tear up as well.

            “Yeah, Arya! Listen to John! Don’t cry!” Kailyn giggles from the bottom of the group hug.

            “Since when do you agree with John, little missy!” I laugh after a small pause at hearing my first name for the first time in a few years. I feel a small pit begin to form in my stomach but I shove the feeling away.

            “Hey! I’m fifteen now! I’m too old to be called “little missy”!” She giggles indignantly.

            “Now, now, you’ll never be too old for me to call you “little missy”!” I pause for a moment debating how to say this, “But I think I might be too old to be called Arya. At least, too different.”

            My mom pulls away slightly and looks at me in confusion. When I saw her recently I was just beginning to go by Jezalie. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean… I just… I’ve been called Jezalie for so long now and I kind of like it. I think it fits me more. I’ve… outgrown… the little girl that Arya was, and it just feels… wrong to be called that again?” I hesitate, not wanting to hurt their feelings, knowing how much they loved the name. “Is it okay if I keep going by Jezalie?”

            “Of course it is, honey! We know you’ve been through a lot, almost more than we have. If you feel like you want to go by Jezalie, we are not opposed to it.” My father smiles at me, looking pointedly at my mother who looks like she wants to put up a small fight, but when I look at her her eyes soften and she sighs.

            “Yes. We aren’t opposed to it. Whatever will make you feel the most like you. We’re going to have to get to know who you are now. I can see it in your eyes that you have changed a lot. But I want you to know, that to me, you’ll always be the same little girl I vowed to always love, and I promise that won’t change, no matter how different you are or what you need to fill us in on. And the reason why you didn’t come home right away.” She smiles gently at me and I can tell that while the last statement hurt her, she was genuinely curious about what caused me to stay.

            “We’re totally cool with it. Besides, I think Jezalie sounds kinda bad-ass anyways.” My brother grins.

            “Hey! Language, young man! But I do agree.” Chuckles my father. I smile at all of them and hug them tighter before we let go.

            “Do you want any help down to the car?” John asks.

            “Sure. I might need your shoulder.” I smirk as I swing my legs out of the bed and hold onto John’s arm. I don’t feel all that bad, but I can tell he is worried about me by the way her grins brightly when I let him escort me out of the room.

            When we had made our way downstairs, I look around me at the many faces, trying to search for Romero’s dark features. I pause when I see him in the waiting room, looking around anxiously. I pull on John’s arm slightly and he comes to a stop, looking at me curiously.

            “I have someone I need to say goodbye to, would you all maybe like to meet him?” I ask, directing the question to my confused family.

            “Of course!” The nod emphatically, but look concerned.

            I release John’s arm and limp walk towards Romero, who sees me coming and stands up with a smile, pulling me into a hug before looking up at the people behind me. “You must be Jezalie – Arya’s – family. I’m honoured to meet you. You’ve raised a wonderful young woman.” He holds out his hand to my father, the person nearest us.

            “It’s good to meet you too…?” My father trials off, looking confused at who this person was.

            “Oh! Right! This is Sheriff Romero from White Pine Bay. He’s taken good care of me and kept an eye out for me during my stay. He’s pretty much been a sort of father-figure to me when I couldn’t see you guys.” I grin at everyone.

            My father’s eyes soften and look slightly teary as he finally takes Romero’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake. “In that case, thank you so much for being there for her when we couldn’t be. It’s a relief to know that she managed to find people who care about her, knowing how shy she at least _used_ to be.”

            “Thank you for the compliment, but I think you’ll be happy to know that she’s really changed the community and has managed to find so many people who really do love her.” Romero says this last part at me pointedly and I know he wants me to say goodbye to everyone else.

            “I’m so glad to hear that.” My mother smiles warmly at Romero and I read her expression that she flashes towards me quite well. She’s going to want to know about these people the moment we start the drive home.

            “Well, we should be going now if we’re going to make it back by nightfall.” My dad says with a gentle hand on my shoulder, reminding me that I’ve been just starting at Romero again.

            “Yes. Well, goodbye Romero.” I say, going in for another hug and murmuring to him, “I promise to keep my promise to you. See you again.”

            “See you again.” He says, then calls out after me as I pull away and start walking back with my family. “Goodbye, Jezalie! White Pine Bay will miss you!”

            I turn and give him one last smile before walking out the door, him following behind us and heading to his patrol car, standing outside and watching after us as I get into my family’s car, and is still standing there as we drive away. I watch from the window as he fades away into nothing. I sigh and press myself into the seat, looking up to meet my mom’s expectant eyes.

            “I was engaged.” I smile sadly at my family. They all look at me in shock.

            “Was?” My mom questions gently, eyes concerned and soft.

            “Was.” I murmur, not wanting to meet any of their eyes and look back out my window instead.

            “Was… was it that cop?” My brother questions hesitantly.

            “No! God no! It wasn’t Romero… Romero was just what I’d described him to be.”

            “What was his name?” My mom asks gently.

            “Dylan. Massett.” I choke out, pressing down the feeling of hurt rising in me at saying his name.

            “What’s he like?” Kailyn asks.

            “He was wonderful… Sweet and kind, and one of the best men I’d ever met. The sort of man I’d always dreamed of being with.” I feel nostalgia grip at my stomach and it hurts to think that it’s been only about a week since we fell apart.

            “What happened?” She asks.

            “We separated due to irreparable differences.” I summarize.

            “What-“ She goes to question again, but I cut her off.

            “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of tired and I don’t really want to talk about it.” I grip her hand gently and smile softly at her so that she knows it’s not her fault for being curious.

 

Dylan POV – Present

            I whip into the parking lot of the hospital Romero texted me this morning and see him leaning against the door of his police cruiser. I screech into he spot beside him. “Romero! Where is she! Is she still here!” I exclaim, anxiety rising within me, palms sweaty and mouth dry.

            Romero’s eyes are on a dark blue car making it’s way down the highway. He doesn’t look at me and I feel my stomach drop. “I missed her, didn’t I?”

            He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and I see a tinge of pity there. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”

            I feel my entire body lose tension, dropping to the ground beside him and lean against his police cruiser, and for the first time since the argument I let myself cry as sobs wrack through my body and tears stain my hands and my hastily thrown on shirt. I feel another wave of grief wash over me when I register it as Jezalie’s favourite. I jerk slightly as Romero’s shoe scrapes against the grim layer on the pavement as he shifts to sit down next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be back. I know she will. I made her promise. And she always keeps her promises. It might take her awhile, but when everything hurt a little bit less, I _know_ she’ll be back. As much as she’s hurt, she loves all of us. And I know she still loves you. She just doesn’t want to remember that yet. You know how stubborn she is.” I give a wet chuckle at that. “I know she knows you love her as well. I know she doesn’t believe that right now.”

            “I wish she’d been able to heal with me.” I murmur, trying to stop the tears.

            “I know she would if she could. I think everything just hurts now and coming back to White Pine Bay right away might hurt her right now more than help her. She’ll come back. She always will. Remember, she’s stubborn. And she loves you. And she promised.” Romero smiles, through his voice sounds choked. I don’t look up to confirm his state.

            “Yeah. She promised.” I smile slightly, all the while feeling like a piece of me is missing. I allow a small piece of that void to be filled with hope. I know she would never make a promise she didn’t intend on keeping. My heart aches, knowing I have to go back to our empty apartment.

 

Six Months Later

Dylan’s POV

            I feel as though I’m being haunted by her. I see traces of her smile and hear bits of her laughter everywhere I go and it aches knowing she’s not here. She’s haunting me, making me miserable for hurting her. Except she’s not that sort of person, so I know I only have myself to blame. She always put others first and there were only a couple of times that she decided to be selfish. I was proud of her for it. When people ask why I whip around, face turning both pale and hopeful, and eyes regaining the sparkle in their blue depths, I say, “I feel like I see Emma everywhere I turn.” And they nod sympathetically and look away uncomfortably.

            Of course, though, that’s a lie. I don’t like to tell people that I feel haunted by Jezalie because I know, and they know, she’s alive. It feels pathetic to be so consumed by the loss of a person who is alive. The first person who saw through my lies was Norma, then Norman. They both nodded knowingly when the lie had come out, but didn’t press me. Romero, on the other hand, belted me across the back of the head and told me that it’s okay to feel loss.

            I sigh as I place my suitcase in the back of my pickup. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Norma asks, standing nervously to the side, wringing her hands.

            “Yes. I just have to get away for a while. Everything here reminds me of her, and it hurts too much.” I say, closing the tailgate.

            “When will you be back?” Her voice comes quickly.

            “I’m not sure. However long it takes me to feel like I can come back and function.” I give her a small smile and she just stares back, acknowledging wordlessly the way I’ve been feeling like nothing has really mattered anymore since she left.

            “What if she comes back?” Her voice is soft.

            “Then you have my number and I’ll be right back here.” My smile turns pained

            “I know she’ll come back. It just might not be as soon as you want it to be. Don’t do anything that you’ll regret, okay?” Her hand rests lightly on my arm as her face radiates concern.

            “I know. I never lost hope. I’m still waiting for her. I don’t think I could ever love another person the way I love her.” I squeeze her hand that’s on my arm gently before turning to Norman.

            “If you hear anything, or if you even just want to talk, give me a call, okay Norman?” I smile at my dark haired brother. We’d grown closer over the past few months. The whole family has. It’s one of two good thing that has come from Jezalie leaving - us having to lean on each other through this, and Romero becoming a part of our family in a roundabout sort of way. I smile softly at how happy he’s made Norma and even Norman.

            “Of course. Please come back soon. I’m actually going to miss you. Almost as much as I miss her.” Norman says with a grin and steps closer to me with a hug.

            I chuckle before turning at climbing into the vehicle. I look over to Romero, who is the final person standing in front of Bates Motel sending me off. He smiles back before stepping towards my window. I roll it down. “Drive carefully now, we don’t need another redo of six months ago” He says first with a teasing smile causing me to laugh despite the tug I feel in my stomach as his words bring back the memories and feelings a little bit sharper. “Now, which direction are you headed?”

            “I’m not quite sure yet. I was thinking maybe North? I haven’t been up that way before.” I feel my brows furrow and confusion sweep into my voice.

            “Mmh. North. I think that sounds about right.” He smiles. “North is beautiful this time of year. Good luck Dylan. I hope you come back faster than you thought, and that you find peace with what you’ve been dealing with. That you find peace with Jezalie. At least in your mind.” He smiles again softly as he says her name and pats the door as his eyes get misty. “See you later, Dylan.”

            “See you later Romero. Bye Norma, Norman!” I call out as I put my truck in gear and make my way out on my cross country road trip.

 

Romero POV

            As Dylan’s truck rolls away in a cloud of dust and Norman migrates back indoors, Norma turns to me and says, “North?” Her pale eyebrows furrow in equal parts curiosity and confusion.

            “North.” I respond with a smile. She studies my face a moment before her downturned lips break into a bright grin.

            “North.” She breathes out as a sigh, hope colouring her features. I smile.

 

Dylan POV

            It takes me a week until I make it up through the rest of Oregon and Washington and into Canada. It’s a beautiful trip and soon I’m taking random highways trailing me throughout British Columbia. Finally I start to realize that I’m not as sad as I was before. I’m able to look at places and think of Jezalie without it hurting so much. I’m able to smile as I take in the scenery of many Canadian towns, Jezalie in mind at the especially beautiful ones. She would have loved the forests and the lakes. She’d dragged me to any she could find within short driving distance and it had always been a secret obsession of hers.

            At the end of the week, I realize that I’ve almost completely made it all the way up British Columbia, so I decide to spend a few days in the small town of Fort Fraser, near the BC and Northwest Territories Border, to decide if I want to continue going North or if I want to take a venture down South now.

            I pull into the parking lot of a motel that I find to be comfortingly similar to the Bates Motel and check in for the night. I pull my suitcase in and lock the door behind me with a click, sinking down onto the thick red duvet. I breathe in a small sigh, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my contacts to Jezalie’s number. I run my finger along her name with a soft smile. I’m not stupid enough to think that she has the same number. Well, I’m not stupid enough to think so after I called five times to get a different person’s answering machine. I continue scrolling through until I find Norman’s name. I press call.

            “Hello?” Norman’s voice is groggy as he answers and I curse softly when I look at the time and realize it’s past midnight.

            “Hey, Norman. It’s Dylan. Sorry about calling so late, I just wanted to say that I found a town I’ll be sticking around in for a few days.” My voice is soft and gentle so as to not hurt his sleepy ears.

            “Oh! Good. That’s good, Dylan. I’m very glad. How is your trip going?” Norman’s voice is slowly clearing of exhaustion and is replaced with his familiar formal speech.

            “It’s going great. It’s so beautiful here.” I smile to myself.

            “How are you doing about… Jezalie?” Norman’s voice is hesitant, as though he doesn’t want to scare me off.

            “I’m doing better. I think of her all the time, but it doesn’t hurt like it used to. I think she’d like these places. I hope I’ll be able to show her one day.” My voice goes quiet for a new reason, filled with emotion and hope.

            “That’s good. I’m sure you’ll be able to show her one day. I’m sure she misses us. I really want to be able to talk to her again. I miss her. You and her were the only ones who cared besides Emma. Now Emma’s gone. And you’re away in Canada somewhere.” Norman’s voice holds a sort of sadness to it that makes my heart ache.

            “I wish I could be there Norman, but I couldn’t sit and wait anymore. I had to do something. I hope you know that. I love you, Norman, and I miss you a lot as well. We’re not the only ones who care, either, Norman. Norma and Romero care as well.” I try and calm him.

            “It’s not the same though. They’re adults, not my friends. I need to talk to people my own age again.” He laughs.

            I smile. “You realize that neither of us are technically teenagers anymore.” I tease.

            “Well that may be, but she still went to high school with me, and is therefore a teenager in my book.” I can almost see Norman grinning.

            “Well, on that note, I should be going.” Dylan smirks.

            “I suppose you should. Where are you, by the way?” Norman asks.

            “Fort Nelson. Will be until at least Saturday.” I smile.

            “Okay. Good to know. Thank you for calling, Dylan. I miss you. Goodnight.”

            “Goodnight, Norman. Miss you too.”

            When the call ends, I change quickly and fall into bed. In minutes I’m sleeping deeply and dreaming of seeing Jezalie again.

 

Romero POV

            “Dylan called last night.” Norman greets me where I’m sitting at the Bates’ kitchen table.

            “Good morning to you, too, Norman.” I smile. “How is he?”

            “He’s good. He said everything hurts less and that the scenery is beautiful. He’s also staying in a town for a few days.” Norman summarizes for me.

            “Where’s he staying?” Curiosity presses at the base of my skull and a small, hopeful feeling ignites in my stomach.

            “Some place called Fort Nelson.” Norman shrugs, reaching into the fridge for a pitcher of orange juice.

            “Fort Nelson.” I repeat, fighting a grin from my face.

            “What about Fort Nelson?” Norma asks, and I’m taken aback by her glowing presence as she flounces into the kitchen.

            “Dylan’s staying there for a few days as of last night.” Norman responds while I pick up the newspaper I’d discarded upon Norman’s entrance, pulling it open to hide my grin.

            “Is that in Canada?” Norma asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

            “Yep. Up North.” I say with a smirk.

            “Up North.” Norma sits down in front of me, staring into my eyes intently.

            I smile at her. “Yes. Fort Nelson is up North.”

            “Fort Nelson?” She asks, a hopeful lilt in her voice.

            “Fort Nelson.” I confirm. A huge grin carves itself across her face as her blue eyes sparkle.

            “Thank God.”

            “I need to spend time with people my own age.” Norman grumbles from his place by the kitchen counter, a glass of juice in his hand. He rolls his eyes and leaves with his juice.

 

Dylan POV

            On my second day in Fort Nelson, a Friday, I’m no closer to a conclusion as to where my journey will take me, so I decide that a trip to a bar might help me. I drive a short ways until I come across a dark building with neon writing reading, “HOWLING MOON PUB”, and pull in to the near empty parking lot. I’m startled that a pub managed to be almost vacant on a Friday night until I realize it’s only eight and most night life doesn’t start flowing in until around ten.

            I take in a deep, clean breathe of the cool night air and revel at the quiet before pulling open the door and being greeted with a dark, rustic, black, and elegant interior that smells comforting in the way the faint scent of alcohol mixes with fried foods, and the bass of an indie song thumps through the speakers. I smile at the dimmed hanging lights and the pale underlighting of the bottles of alcohol behind the main bar as it decorates the room in what looks just like moonlight.

            I focus again on the bar as I take a step towards it and immediately catch my breath. Her dark blonde hair is lit around her head light a halo and the light dances fantastically off of her beautiful face. She looks so much like a dream that I go to pinch myself until I feel the cool gust of air chill the back of my neck as someone comes in behind me. I don’t move, even as the person coughs uncomfortable and moves around me, too focussed on the woman before me. I continue to gawk and I can see the familiar sparkle in her green eyes as she laughs at what the person in front of her says as she leans close to him on the bar. I pause at that, taking in the black-haired stranger seated at the bar, leaning in close to her. From the view I have of his back, I notice he’s wearing a leather jacket and frown. They seem quite intimate, talking lowly to each other.

            My heart plummets into the bottom of my stomach and I think I’m going to be sick as it hits me. I lost her to another man. I stumble into a table, the clatter loud and unforgiving in the small, empty room just as the man I’d blocked gestures curiously in my direction, hand on Jezalie’s black-clad shoulder. I freeze as her head whips up in surprise, at first at the sound, then the expression on her face grows into one of awe and she’s pulling her apron over her head.

            “I’m on break.” Her sweet, musical voice that I’d started to think I’d only hear in my dreams cuts through my consciousness and what feels like deep into my body as she calls to the other man with her behind the counter.

            “But you just-“ He starts.

            “I’m. On. Break.” She bites out forcefully, keeping her beautiful eyes trained on me, and the man holds his hands up in surrender.

            “Jezalie?” The black haired man questions her, eyes darting between myself and her.

            “It’s fine, John. I’ll be right back.” She smile at the man and ruffles his hair gently before walking across the bar and grabbing my arm, dragging me outside behind her.

            She releases my arm and I feel my skin tingling where her touch is missing.

            “What are you doing here?” Her voice snaps, eyes darting around everywhere and body shaking.

            “I don’t know, I just… I walked in.” I stutter dumbly.

            “What are you doing _in Canada_ …?” Her eyes are wide in shock and fear.

            “I, uh. Roadtrip. I couldn’t stand being in White Pine Bay.”

            “But why-“

            “How about first you tell me who that guy was you were flirting with?” I snap.

            “ _Flirting with_?! That was my _brother_! And what the hell makes you think you can just come barging in here and asking me things like that?” I can see it in her eyes that she’s hurt.

            “I’m – sorry. I just…” I trail off, my mind blank and her eyes turn frustrated and panicked. Her hands begin to shake more and her breath is starting to come in short gasps. “Jezalie…”

            “No.” She says, shaking her head and closer her eyes as though she’s denying my presence in front of her. “No. I can’t… no.” She turns and walks back into the bar.

            I stare after her in shock and this feeling comes over me, this feeling that I’m losing her all over again just after I’ve found her. I won’t be too late this time. I can’t let her run away. Because that’s who she is. She’ll run away until I give her a reason not to.

            I pull open the door to bar again and walk over to where she is behind the bar once again, head in her hands. She stares at me warily as I seat myself in front of her. “Dylan-“ I shiver, hearing my name in her voice for the first time in six months.

            “No. I need to talk to you. Please just listen.” I stare deep into her eyes and see the apprehension there. She stays silent though, schooling her expression into one I can’t read, which scares me, since I used to always be able to read her.

            “Maybe you should just leave her-“ The man she says is her brother is staring intently at me.       

            “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I have something to say to Jezalie, the woman I am and always will be in love with, that I’ve been wanting to say since the night I broke her heart six months ago.” I stare into her cold eyes as I say this. She still doesn’t respond.

            “ _Please_. Please give me the chance to apologize. To explain.” I plead.

            Her expression remains hard and I feel panic rise up within me. “Please. Just five minutes. Because, Jezalie, _all that I'm after is a life full of laughter and as long as I'm laughing with you, I'm thinking that all that still matters is love ever after, after the life we've been through._ _Because I know there's no life after you_.”

            She stares hard at me for another long moment before her expression just barely softens and she allows me one small, hesitant smile and that’s enough for me, at least for now. I allow hope to take root and grow inside me for the first time since I lost her.

            I smile back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been to Fort Nelson, and I made up the setting as I went, I just used a map to find a place that seemed a good distance away! I don't mean to offend if that is, in fact, where you're from!


End file.
